


Wild horses couldn't drag me away; Wild, wild horses we'll ride them some day

by Splatx



Series: Evan, also known as "This is a Bad Idea(TM) [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Crushes, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Horsemanship, It's how she flirts, Pre-Relationship, Returned Crush but they don't know it, early christmas fic, horse breaking, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25862608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splatx/pseuds/Splatx
Summary: “O-oh, but he’s a present enough, I wasn’t expecting anything, you didn’t need to get me anything!” she glowered at him, moving as though to shove her wallet in his face then putting it into her jacket, her harsh green eyes brooking no argument.“I-thank you.” he finally acquiesced, and her grin was well worth it.“Merry Christmas to you, too.”
Series: Evan, also known as "This is a Bad Idea(TM) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876702
Kudos: 2





	Wild horses couldn't drag me away; Wild, wild horses we'll ride them some day

###  _Wild horses couldn't drag me away  
Wild, wild horses we'll ride them some day_  
~Wild Horses, The Rolling Stones

Evan woke him at just-gone sunrise on Christmas Eve, and proceeded to almost kill him of a heart attack at the same time.

He hadn’t realized it was her at first—she’d been dressed different than he’d ever seen her at the shack, in an outfit he’d only seen her wearing while doing work in Lemoyne, when she’d taken down Hixon, and they’d transported the ingredients on the boat. A jean jacket with no sleeves, a white undershirt and denim pants, wrist-length gloves, cowboy boots and a cattleman hat. Not at all warm enough for the chilly Grizzlies, even where the shack was built, warmer than the mountains. Lem’d never seen her in the shack in anything other than her Rexroad coat, long worn leather and furs, and she’d startled him enough that he’d scrambled for the gun he kept beneath his pillow, dropping back to the bed when she stepped back in surrender, holding her hands up in the seven, leaving him to clutch at his chest, “Y-you startled me!”

She had the grace to look sheepish, scuffing her boot on the wood floor and dipping her head in an exaggerated manner—he didn’t think he’d ever heard her talk, but he’d learned to read her body language in the near-year he’d known her, and she’d always exaggerated her movements when she was using them to communicate, when they weren’t natural but her way of speaking instead.

“What d’ya need?” he grumbled, sitting up and running his fingers through his hair, before realizing that this was Evan and he was in _his sleeping clothes_ and yanking his blanket up to provide himself as much decency as he was going to get, though from the amusement on her face it was clear the action hadn’t gone unnoticed.

She grinned, and reached for his arm, tugging at his union suit, very pointedly indicating ‘come with me!’ and he squawked as she took hold and tried to tug him out of bed—what had gotten into her?! He’d never seen her like this before, she’d always been relatively level headed and withdrawn, although sometimes he’d like to think he’d seen her give him a fond grin when he got over-excited, though he was absolutely certain it was his imagination, why would she have smiled at him when he was talking of his plan before the explosion that nearly killed her and had left her permanently scarred him? That burn scar twisted her mouth, left only one side to perk up with her grin, but still her eyes gleamed, and he wondered if she was drunk, had started her Christmas Eve by breaking into their moonshine stash, but her eyes were clear and there was no flush to her face, and he wondered if she was one of those folk who, for some strange reason, changed wholly for the holidays.

“Okay okay I’m comin’! Just… let me get dressed!”

She stared at him.

He stared at her.

With a snort and a shake of her head, she turned sharply on her heel, crossed her arms, and stared at his door as he hurried to dress. He wasn’t a prudish man, not in the least, and was quite used to changing in front of others, but changing in front of Evan was different—though he wasn’t one of those folk who believed that women were inherently weaker than men (just look at Aunt Maggie, after all!) there was something about having her, a woman he could see was relatively muscular even through her clothes, from her bared forearms in those clothes, see a man such as him; he wasn’t fat like a city man, didn’t have a beer gut, but neither was he particularly muscled, either.

Finally dressed, he cleared his throat, and she didn’t even turn around, just hurried out of his room, and he knew better and scurried after her, fumbling the jacket she tossed his way before wrapping it around him, asking “Where we goin’?” but she didn’t answer, instead smirking at him over her shoulder, nodding towards the door in another clear ‘Come on!’ and waving at Aunt Maggie as she walked by, the woman calling out

“You two have fun,” eye knowing as she looked at Lem, refusing to say anything more when he stared at her pleadingly.

  
  


Outside her Thoroughbred waited, a handsome thing he’d only seen once or twice, a dark red it looked near black, and he looked around to see if she’d brought another horse—usually she brought her nastily tempered Ardennes Cassim and either Scheherazade her Criollo or Douban her reddish Walker for him to ride if she wanted him to ride with her for work, but he’d never complain if she didn’t bring Cassim, that horse hated him, hated everyone it seemed, excepting her.

She slung herself up into the horse’s saddle, and he tried to remember its name (Sinbad, he was pretty sure), before offering her hand to help him up, and even as he swung himself up behind her he asked “Don’t you want to get a jacket?” because it was freezing so early in the morning, even with his fur jacket he was shivering, and he could feel her doing the same as he put his hands on her hips to balance himself as she kicked the horse into a canter, shaking her head.

Although it was impossible for him to miss the way she leaned back into him, as though to seek his body heat.

  
  


To his confusion, they didn’t ride far at all, barely an hour and a half—an awkward hour and a half, seeing as they couldn’t much keep up a conversation, though she didn’t have to guide the horse as it followed the road on its own, clearly having traversed it many times before, she couldn’t exaggerate her movements to respond to him, only nod or shake her head, and he ran out of yes-or-no topics within the first half-of-an-hour.

She pulled Sinbad to a stop not far from the larkspur fields in the Big Valley, grinning at him and pushing on his shoulder to gesture him to dismount. He did so, her boots thumping to the ground only moments later, patting the horse on the shoulder before tying his reins around his saddlehorn but not hitching him, which would be just asking for him to be eaten considering they were in grizzly _and_ cougar territory, shivering and rubbing her arms before gesturing ‘follow me’ and dropping into a crouch, so he did the same, slinking after her as she crawled up a hill that led up the flower fields, carefully avoiding the creek.

Her arm shot out, pressing against his chest before they crested the hill, “Wh-” he started to ask but she looked at him and pressed her finger to her mouth in a universally recognized ‘shhh,’ only pulling it away when he nodded, her face almost comically serious. He mimicked her when she lowered herself to her stomach, belly-crawling up through the grass, grinning at him and pointing at a herd of horses not far away that would surely have been spooked if he spoke or if they had walked over the hill.

She looked over at him, arched an eyebrow and gestured at the horses, and he whispered, “They’re beautiful,” looking over the herd, over the Saddlers and the Standardbreds, grazing and rolling and dozing, foals cavorting around. One little grey Saddler suckled at his black-and-white mama, and he grinned—movement next to him caught his eye, looking over to see Evan pulling out one of those new-fangled portable cameras, taking a picture that seemed painfully loud in the silence. They both froze, and the herd looked their way, a palomino mare trotting towards them and blowing loudly, but slowly the herd went back to their activities, though the mare, who they took to be the lead mare, kept an eye their way.

  
  


Evan nudged his shoulder, and he startled, looking at her and mouthing ‘what?’ She pointed at a black Standardbred, and tilted her head at him—'what do you think?’ was the closest he could gather, and he shrugged; it looked pretty scrawny, nothing that would be useful to her. He gestured to a nearby Saddler of the same color, and she shook her head, making a cradling gesture with her hand—'too young’.

She pointed at a pretty pinto Saddler mare, looking at him and tilting her head; he gave a half-hearted nod. It was in good health, it looked like, but was just a middling thing, didn’t look too fast or strong or stand out in any sort of way. Evan made a sound that was half-snort-half-laugh, shook her head and gestured at a grey Saddler, but he didn’t even have a chance to respond before she was shaking her head, the horse having begun to walk, hobbling in a way that showed it was clearly lame in its right hind leg.

There was a long moment where she didn’t move, and he looked over to see her green eyes scanning the herd, the various Saddlers and Standardbreds, chewing her lip. Finally, she perked up, looking at him and pointing at a stallion that stood off to the side, tail swishing as it watched the forest with a wary eye, and even he couldn’t find any fault in it—it was a handsome thing, buckskin with a long black mane, and he was sure it would gleam if given a good brush down. Muscles rippled beneath his pelt when he trotted along the treeline, no apparent lameness or illness to be found.

If you were looking for a good wild horse, he was the best you were going to get. Better than a fair few captive bred horses, too.

He nodded, gave his enthusiastic approval, and she flashed a wide grin, crawled as close as she could get to the tree line before moving up to her knees, then to her feet, staying in a low crouch, while he remained where he was for fear of startling the horses. She kissed her teeth as she approached the stallion, the horse dancing back, snorting in alarm. The rest of the herd screamed, rearing up before fleeing, the foals bolting after their mamas, but thankfully the stallion was either curious or intended on distracting the ‘threat’, as he stamped his hooves but remained where he stood.

Evan kissed her teeth, clicked her tongue and held her hands out in a ‘I mean no harm’ sort of way as she carefully approached the stallion—she did a lot of stupid things, a lot of dangerous things, a lot of stupid, dangerous things, but she didn’t care to die of a horse kick or horse bite. She was an outlaw through and through, and wanted to die the way of one—blown up or shot through, although she wasn’t so selfish as to only intend to die while outlawing, she was an outlaw and a trader and a moonshiner, too, so being shot or blown up while doing those things was alright, too.

The stallion snorted, threw his head back and reared, slamming his hooves into the ground, and danced back. She went still to let him settle, clicking her tongue and humming low in her throat, wishing she could speak but it wasn’t worth the pain, though those soothing words would have been nice. All she could do at the moment was click and kiss her tongue and shush him, approach as non-threateningly as was possible, though it didn’t quite come natural to her, until finally she was within touching distance. The buckskin was tense, and when she reached out, slowly, to pat his neck his skin twitched beneath her hand, but he allowed it.

“Shhh,” she hushed between her teeth, ‘See? We’re friends,’ feeling Lem’s eyes burning holes in her back and fighting the urge to preen and then, when the horse began to lean into the touch, she leaped up onto his back, fisting his mane in her hand and clenching her legs in tight in that sweet spot behind his shoulders, relaxing as he screamed and began to buck, making his way through the larkspurs, hearing Lem whoop and holler and wishing she could do the same as adrenaline ran through her, she always loved breaking horses though it wasn’t a very good way of earning money with how the stables paid for an unpapered horse.

She twisted with the stallion, leaning right as it barreled left to keep from losing her balance, then left as it raced right, tightening her legs not to urge him on, although it served to, but to keep her perch when he nearly succeeded in throwing her over his head with a particularly harsh buck, and she didn’t much care to be trampled, twisting his coarse mane in her fist, mouth opening in a silent laugh as he leaped up, arching his back before coming down hard, racing in a circle as she _shhh-shhh_ -ed him, feeling the stallion slowing beneath her, tiring himself out.

Finally, he dug in his hooves and skidded to a stop, hanging his head and gasping loudly, flanks heaving and soaked with sweat, and she leaned forward to pat his neck, kissing her teeth even as she nudged him forward in a walk, wanting to make sure he wouldn’t bolt once she was off his back. One, two, three circles she walked him in, before finally swinging off his back, stumbling as overworked legs hit the ground, looking for Lem and finding him not far away and waving him over, grabbing her lasso off her hip and wrapping it around the Standardbred’s neck into a makeshift sort of bridle.

  
  


“Th-that was incredible!” Lem gasped, out of breath as if he was the one who had broken the horse, and she grinned. She patted the buckskin on his sweaty neck and presented his lead to the man, who stared at it as though he’d never seen a rope before. When he didn’t reach to take it, she waggled it like she would a bone for Tad, the dog she kept back at camp, and he looked from her, to the lead, to the horse, dawning realization crawling across his face in an almost comical way. “Is… is he for me?”

‘Well hallelujah.’ she nodded in a very exaggerated way, and shoved his lead into Lem’s hand, stepping back so that he either had to grab the lead or risk the buckskin being able to run off. He stared at it, then “I… I, thank you!” and giving her a beaming grin, leaning forward to pat him on the neck.

She shrugged, ‘It weren’t no thing,’ he needed a horse if he needed to be doing work, and she wouldn’t always be around to lend him Scheherazade or Douban, it had been nearly a year since they’d re-established Maggie’s moonshine business and he needed to start doing deliveries too - to do that he needed a horse of his own. So why not? It was Christmas, after all, or at least the day before.

Evan whistled sharply, Sinbad trotting over with a nicker while the stallion snorted, pricking his ears. After a moment, though, he decided the gelding was no danger, instead returning to eyeing her and Lem, prancing in place uneasily as she swung up into the Thoroughbred’s saddle, Lem doing the same and having to cling on as the Saddlebred crow-hopped, swinging his new horse around in circles until he obeyed with little fuss. His eyes widened, and he hurried to pass her her hat, “I grabbed this for ya, it fell off,” and she looked at it, patting her dark hair, shaking her head when she found it bare, slapping the hat back on where it belonged.

To the man’s confusion, though, she didn’t turn them back towards the shack, but nudged Sinbad into a walk in the opposite direction. “Wait, where’re we goin’?” and she made a motion as though eating something small, then—“Strawberry? What’re we goin’ there for?”

She looked at him as though she thought him some great fool, then pulled out her wallet from inside of her jacket, tapped her chest, pointed at him, then patted Sinbad’s saddle. It took him a long moment to connect the gestures, and then his eyebrows vanished into his hairline as he shook his head, “No, no! I can’t let you do that!” Tack, even the cheapest tack, would be ridiculously expensive, he couldn’t let her buy it for him.

The look Evan gave him, he was sure, was one many of her bounty targets had seen before she’d taken them down and they’d found themselves at a hanging tree, was the look many men saw in their last moments. It was a look of ‘don’t try me’ and ‘I dare you to try me’ and he froze, nearly being thrown off as the Saddlebred surely felt his hesitation and tried his luck, only Evan grabbing the horse’s rope keeping him from ending up in the larkspurs. She pulled out her pocket watch, made a gesture with it as though passing a great deal of time, then pointed her finger at the sun and gestured as though making it set then rise again.

“O-oh, but he’s a present enough, I wasn’t expecting anything, you didn’t need to get me anything!” she glowered at him, moving as though to shove her wallet in his face then putting it into her jacket, her harsh green eyes brooking no argument.

“I-thank you.” he finally acquiesced, and her grin was well worth it.

“Merry Christmas to you, too.”


End file.
